It's Okay Not To 8e Okay
by guesswhatimahomestuck
Summary: What would you do if your arm was blown off and you lost one of your eyes? If you were permanently disfigured beyond repair, would you be okay with it? You wouldn't cry or wail or pity yourself at all? Come on, do something out of character for a change. This is what happened after Vriska started the cycle of revenge, lost her dignity, and betrayed her friends. Sadstuck. One-shot.


It's Okay Not To 8e Okay

== 8e Vriska

Eight weeks, eight days, eight hours, and eighty-eight seconds.

That's how long it's been. And I still don't recognize myself in the mirror.

The girl in the glass is missing her left arm and the matching eye. In place of her limb sits a stub of a shoulder, with ugly scar tissue decorating the gray skin with swirls. Messily sown stitching make it a bumpy, uneven mound of flesh. Even the strongest of stomachs would blanch at the misshapen and mutilated body part.

Her eye doesn't even exist anymore. In its place rests an empty socket, not even fully healed yet. It needed and still needs a skin transfer, but that never happened so the flesh around it was pulled as far as it would stretch and sown into the open muscle beneath. It was lucky the cells had grown over and covered the whole thing. But only just barely. Gray-blue matter still peeks out under the skin, veins throbbing visibly and wet blood still present.

Even as I stand here, staring at what I know to be my reflection, I find myself denying that the freak gazing back from the wall is me.

I can't help but think- _Why?_

_Why did I have to push Tavros off that cliff?_

_Why did I listen to that white-texting asshole?_

_Why did I kill Aradia?_

_Why did I ever trust that stupid cue ball?_

_Why did I try to kill Terezi?_

_Why did I hurt my only friends?_

_Why?_

And as I sway on my feet, still gaping at my own image, I realize that... I don't know the answer to any of those questions. I used to know the answer to everything. I was the smartest. I was the best. I governed what was cool and what was lame or boring. I knew exactly what I wanted and what to do...

But now I'm starting to wonder- Did I ever truly know anything?

The I can't get my thoughts straight. The synapses in my mind refuse to work; refuse to connect the dots. The pride governing my emotions has fled and hid in the corner, leaving the rest of them fried beyond repair.

I can't move. I can't look away. I just keep gazing at the fucking monster standing in my mirror.

_That can't 8e me! I'm Vriska! I'm supposed to have all the luck! Lucky people don't lose thier arms! How could this have happened to me?!_

The reflection stares at me with a singular dead eye. It's so ugly and it makes me want to vomit. I don't want to look at it anymore. But before I can turn my head, it starts talking. It's mouth words out, "This is your fault."

"No!" I can hear it so clearly, and it's like a knife to my chest. Breath is hard to come by, but I force out my denial.

"You did this to me."

"They 8etrayed me!"

"You hurt them first."

"No! It's not my f8ult!"

My right hand shoots forward and slams into the mirror. I don't remember telling it to do that, but I stand and watch it move anyway. A loud chink shatters into existence at the motion and plinks of glass cascading to the ground echo in its wake. Pain shoots all the way up to my elbow in stabbing little prickles, and cerulean blood smears across the now cracked mirror.

I don't even bother looking at my fist as it falls limply back to my side; I'm still preoccupied with the reflection. It's cracked surface shows my image in shards, with some pieces missing. The white flaws across the glass make it look like silver spider web was draped haphazardly over its frame. It would have made for an awesome arachnid pun. It almost makes me laugh.

I want to laugh.

I want the sound to fake my happiness and drive away the awful reflection of myself and the thoughts that keep badgering my mind. But the void in my stomach is sucking all the emotions out of my body. All into a small box, to be locked away and forget about the key.

"If that's the case, then what's this pain you're feeling?"

My head snaps back to the mirror. Somehow, the distorted, splintered monster survived my attack.

_How? What? Pain?_

Heart dropping, I know in my gut that it's not referring to the fresh slits in my knuckles. It keeps staring at me just as it has this entire time, only now its eye is silently bleeding diluted blue tears.

"I-I don't know..." My voice is hoarse and it's difficult to get the words out of my choked up throat. It aches and I have the sudden urge to scream the pain away, and keep screaming even after that.

But I don't allow myself. In fact, I don't even remember the last time I'd cried out loud. I vowed a long time ago never to be that fragile; no matter what.

But what the reflection says next almost makes my whole resolve crumble to dust.

"Then you're weak." Its dead voice echoes in my ears as though it had screeched. I hold my breath.

You're weak.

"No." My voice sounds so small.

"Feeble."

"I'm not weak."

"Pathetic."

"I'm not weak!"

"Breakable."

"I'M NOT! WE8K!"

My voice had cracked, and for some reason that pisses me off.

_What the FUCKING hell? What is wrong with me?! NO! Wh8t is wrong with you?! You're such a -!_

My throat suddenly opens, and I let go of my restraints. I don't even listen to what comes out of my mouth, I just keep yelling.

"I'm not the weak one, you are! You're disgusting! A liar! You 8etrayed your friends! But maybe they weren't even your friends? They've h8d you since the 8eginning, you huge 8itch! You've killed so many people! You're a murderer! You use your lusus for an excuse, but it's a fucking excuse in its entire definition! It's pathetic and lame! You say everything else is so 8oring when you would kill to live normally like everyone else! What's this stupid front you put up then? You do horri8le things just to show other people?! That's fucking pathetic, you we8kling! You did this to yourself! You lost your eyes and your vision 8-fold! You fucked up the only advantage you had left! You ruined your chance at friends! You turned into an eyeless, armless MONSTER! What is everyone supposed to think now? You're a FREAK!"

My breath is ragged and I can't catch it by the time I finish. I'm suddenly so tired, as though I'd run five miles in under ten minutes. My throat is even more raw now, and part of me regrets screaming. The other part feels somewhat relieved.

But only just barely.

I know I'm crying, and have been crying. I can feel the tinted water stream down my cheeks; I can feel the tears soaking my shirt. I don't have to see it in the mirror, so I don't bother to look. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and let my fatigued self fall forward.

I crumble to a heap on the floor, my forehead resting against the cold, broken glass hanging in front of me.

I'm still being quiet. It's a huge difference after my screeching match with the mirror, but my thoughts are too jumbled to be able to hear anyway. The neccesary is lost on me. Other than physically saying words, I think I've lost the ability to sob and scream even though I want to, really badly. I want to shriek and shout incoherently until my lungs burst.

_Why won't my 8ody let me? Please..._

"I'm not weak..." My own voice sounds foreign to my ears. I can feel my mouth moving, so I know it's me speaking, but otherwise I would have thought another person was in my hive. The thought makes me shudder, but as I sit in the dark all alone, I bitterly reassure myself.

_Who would even 8other to check?_

* * *

== 8e Vriska

It's been eighty-eight weeks, eight days, eight hours, and eight seconds.

I still don't recognize myself in the mirror.

And I honestly don't think I ever will.

But my name is still Vriska Serket.

I wear an eyepatch over my left glasses lens and my left arm is purely made up of wires and gears.

I still look like a freak. My friends still don't trust me. And I still hate myself.

I'm definitely not okay.

But I guess that's okay.

* * *

A/N: I've had this one-shot in my head for a while, and finally decided to write it. It's just my interpretation of what went through Vriska's mind, since we didn't really get to delve into her mind on the date of the event. I mean come on, a lot is thought about when you're permanently disfigured for the rest of your life. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it and please leave me a review on what you think c:


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